impossible
by starkhasheart
Summary: A collection of Clara/11th Doctor drabbles. Hopefully I'll be able to update every one or two days.
1. ability

Clara notices things about the Doctor. She observes him when he's too preoccupied with the TARDIS or babbling on about some spacey-wacey stuff that she can hardly wrap her head around; the mere thought that there were millions upon millions of solar systems out there with hundreds and thousands of planets and billions of people makes her head throb. However, all of this information seems to excite the Doctor and he never seems to stop babbling on and on about the planets and all of the alien species out there. It makes her lips quirk at the corners. When the Doctor's talking about all of these things his eyes are alight with wonder and he seems younger.

She also notices how quick he is with his hands; how they dance across the TARDIS's control panel and seem to know every knob and lever and button, and how they move animatedly when he's running on and on about space. He seems so deft with his hands even though he carries himself like a giraffe that's unsure how to use its limbs.

Clara knows she shouldn't be surprised at what she's seeing now. Even though the Doctor was able to pilot the TARDIS with such dexterity, she had a hunch that his hands weren't very clever in the kitchen. He almost dropped the eggs needed to make the soufflé and he could barely crack them without Clara's assistant. It seems like he couldn't make a soufflé, let alone do anything that involved cooking, without Clara's help. He stands back and watches with slight amazement as she cracks the eggs in a bowl and stirs them, like it was a form of witchcraft. She smiles to herself. The Doctor may know so much, but he was just beginning to scratch the surface of the universe.


	2. stricken

It hits him, like a slap to the face, and it stings. In his mind the Doctor is screaming at himself to _stop_, just to stop, before it goes too far and he's brought right back to square one. Yet he can't, because the realization was right in front of him and he couldn't ignore it, he couldn't look away. He can only stare at the woman in front of him, smile as bright as a thousand suns. It's that same smile, that same face, that same _person_, that makes the Doctor's hearts flutter in his chest like a hummingbird's wings and makes his stomach do backflips and makes his palms sweaty and makes it hard for him to breathe. She's the girl who dances in his dreams and pervades his every waking thought and no matter where he turns, she's always _there._

It's in this very moment the Doctor realizes that he's deeply, madly in love with Clara Oswald. He's fallen for her so hard that it would be impossible to pick himself back up again.


	3. dancing

The way she sways is enough to make the Doctor's head swim. When she takes his hand and tugs him along with her he can only ask what she's doing. She always smiles at him and she expects it to be a fair enough answer (and to the Doctor, it always is.) When Clara smiles the Doctor's hearts stall in his chest and he's left speechless and stammering to find the right words.

Most of the time, the Doctor hates it. He's always got the right things to say and he knows when to say them, but when Clara came into his life (this Clara; not the other times he unexpectedly ran into her) his words were taken away from him each time she smiled at him, every time she laughed, every time he _saw_ her. It was like everything in the world stopped and the only ones moving were the Doctor and his Clara, who are now slowly dancing in the TARDIS console room, hands entwined and bodies nearly touching.

Again, he's struck speechless. Clara's eyes are dark in the soft light of the TARDIS's console room but they're still bright (and beautiful, in the Doctor's honest opinion) and her cheeks are dusted with a tint of pink and her red lips are pursed, like she's unsure what she's doing, what _they're_ going, is okay. The Doctor doesn't like that face, so he looks up at the ceiling of the TARDIS and sends a little message and hope it gets through. He's relieved when soft music starts playing through the TARDIS.

Clara finally smiles and _oh_, the Doctor loves Clara's genuine smiles. They're bright like a torch in the darkness and they make his hearts flutter and butterflies flurry in his stomach. In fact, it's pretty much her entire presence that throws him into a tizzy. He tries not to focus on it at the moment. Instead he smiles back and chuckles, twirling her around and hearing her laugh, like the sound of pealing bells.


	4. arousal

Darkness can be one's greatest enemy or one's most treasured ally. It can wreathe you in secrets and hide you from the truth. It can blind you from the ugliest things and hide you from the most beautiful sights. Darkness can truly be good or bad, but in this situation, it's both.

In the blackness he can _feel_ her, her soft skin, the heat radiating from her body, mingling with his. He can smell her scent and her mere presence sends heat flaring through his body like electrical pulses dancing across a live wire. Blood rushes down south and his breathing is quick and shallow as his hands search for her in the darkness and finds her face. He threads his fingers through her soft hair and pulls her to him, crushing their lips together and her breaths hitch and they're soon intertwined in the black, arms and legs tangled together. Lips move to necks and hands move to buttons and clothes are thrown off bodies and onto the floor.

It's so spontaneous that it surprises them. What had begun as a mere friendship between them sparked into something as hot as an inferno and no matter what they tried to quell the flames they always ignited back again into something brighter and _hotter. _Both of them had fallen off the edge, and this was what's waiting at the bottom.

Heat. Arousal. Lust.

_Love?_


End file.
